


Shit, Let's Be Bikers

by Drakanin, RageGrandma



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Christpunchers, Dramedy, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Gen, M/M, Multiple characters show up for at least a few chapters, Past Relationship(s), Post-Apocalypse, assume that almost all of AH will show up, but it didn't feel right to include them, light-hearted angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-07-28 23:15:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16251782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakanin/pseuds/Drakanin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RageGrandma/pseuds/RageGrandma
Summary: There are no more laws in Los Santos. After an event known only as the Chaos, cut off from the rest of the country, most people are divided into two groups: criminals, including gangs and mercenaries, and enforcers, who band together to try and force law back into their lawless city.In a city that has irrevocably been changed, the surviving Fakes attempt to navigate this new world, with mixed strategies. They shed their old crew name, pick up some motorcycles, and each strive to find a new meaning of life.





	1. Christpunchers, Roll Out!

 

Humming a jolly tune to himself, he lined up a kick and punted the brown rock down the street. It bounced off a pothole and jerked under the twisted frame of an Asterope. His hum cut off and he paused, watching the car’s husk, as though waiting for his stony ball to reappear. He shook his head, rolled his shoulders and adjusted his grip on his assault rifle, and continued walking.

His attention wandered despite his best efforts. The sun was warm, the wind cool. The temperature toed the line of making his mask too hot, and he knew his hairline would be damp by the time he got back. But otherwise, it was downright pleasant.

Instead of walking around the pile of rubble, he leapt from slab to slab, as though they were rocks in a stream rather than the spilled flesh of a building. The building used to be a restaurant, but its wall was not a lucky one. He picked up his song again, singing along to the tune in his head.

“ _I got a pocket, got a pocket full of sunshine_ ,” he sang softly. “ _I got a love, and I know that it’s all mine, oh…_ ”

Someone crawled onto the pile of rubble behind him. He heard their shoes scuff the slabs of concrete, and he paused. He _knew_ he should have paid closer attention to the insides of the buildings he passed. He glared over his shoulder. It was some scrawny guy in a loose t-shirt, with two friends poking their scruffy faces out of the destroyed building. Each one had mean, haunted eyes.

The king of the hill pointed a pistol at him and demanded. “Give us your gun, and whatever else is in your pockets!”

“Don’t you know who I am?” he asked. “Did the Chaos scramble your brains along with your neighborhood?”

“Oh I know who you are,” the man sneered. “That was before, _Mister_ Vagabond. This is a new era, and it’s three against one.”

“I mean,” said the Vagabond. “You could at least threaten me with something better than a spray painted Nerf gun.”

The king of the hill faltered, and his gun drooped. The Vagabond spun on his heel and snapped his assault rifle up, peppering the man’s chest with pops of red. The two friends cried out and stumbled back towards their shelter.

“Aw, don’t go,” he pleaded. He shot one of them, watching the body crumple. “We’ll make so many memories.”

He shot the last man, then tucked his rifle securely under his arm. He went from body to body, fishing through their pockets. They didn’t have much. The pistol really was a Nerf gun, and he picked some of the paint off with a fingernail to reveal bright orange before tossing it aside. He found a few candy bars, which he shoved into his leather jacket’s pockets. Back in the building they had a small stockpile of food and jugs of water, but he would have to come back for that.

He stood and as he passed the first man, he paused to nudge the body with his foot. He inhaled deeply, breathing in through his rubber mask, and turned back onto the street to stroll down the ruined sidewalk.

“ _Do what you want, but you’re never gonna break me_ ,” he hummed. “ _Sticks and stones are never gonna shake me, no_.”

He made it back to their camp, where Geoff and Jack perched in the bed of the truck, waiting. The truck was parked in front of what used to be a convenience store for a gas station on a corner, and past the blown-out glass doors leaned the six motorcycles, all variously colored and without wheels. No one else appeared to be around.

“Christ, Ryan,” Geoff said as the Vagabond approached. “Were those _your_ gunshots?”

“Maybe.”

Jack sighed and massaged his forehead. “I hope you had a good reason to waste those bullets.”

Ryan shrugged and pulled out the candy bars, tossing them at the truck bed. By reflex, Jack and Geoff each caught one, the rest skidding onto the truck. Jack looked at the candy, then sighed again and hid his face in his hands. Geoff merely rolled his eyes and ripped open the Meteorite bar.

“There’s definitely a garage over there,” Ryan said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. Geoff broke off a piece of the chocolate and offered it to Ryan, who took it. “I checked it out. It’s relatively untouched, and it has all the tires we need to get our bikes on the road.”

Ryan pulled off the rubber skull mask, angling his face towards the wind and letting it cool off his face. He popped the piece of chocolate in his mouth before it had the chance to melt and ran a hand through his loose brown hair. He combed it out with his fingers as best he could before tying it back into a short ponytail.

“The lads are gonna be upset if they don’t get any of the sweets,” Ryan reminded Geoff as he finished off the Meterorite bar.

“The fuck do I care?” Geoff said, but he didn’t reach for another one.

“They should be back soon,” Jack said. His arms were crossed, and his brow was tense as he stared at Ryan. “Even if they weren’t headed back before, they will be now after those gunshots.”

“See?” Ryan said. “I did us a favor.”

“Oh stop.”

Sure enough, moments later, the frantic trampling of three sets of footsteps grabbed the attention of the trio of men. A telltale flash of gold identified a panting Gavin, hand wrapped around Jeremy’s wrist as he dragged the winded man along.

“We heard gunshots.” Michael, who was bringing up the rear, lowered his pistol and looked around. He paused to take a deep breath before wiping the sweat from his brow. “What happened?”

“I made some new friends,” Ryan offered, doing his best to pull off an innocent smile. He chuckled, looking between the lads.

“Ryan,” Gavin whined, crossing his arms and staring up at the larger man. “How could you?”

“How could I what? I used the bullets in self defense.”

“No, I mean how could you have all the fun without us? We’ve been scrounging through piles of scrap for hours.”

“He wasted bullets, that’s what he did,” Jack said. Ryan rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t ‘fun.’”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Geoff butted in, climbing out of the truck bed to physically squeeze his way between Ryan and Gavin before clapping his hand onto Gavin’s shoulder. “Now tell me, did you guys find anything good?”

Gavin grinned, slinging the backpack onto to bed of the truck and unzipping it. He drew the bag open, presenting it to Geoff like a trophy. “Lil J and I found an abandoned craft store! They had all these tubes of glitter and jars of paint. Look! These even glow in the dark!”

Geoff accepted the bottle that Gavin held out to him, reading it over before grimacing and tossing it into the distance. “I thought I told you to only grab _useful_ things, Gavin.”

“Wh-bu-Geoff!” Gavin protested as the plastic tube clattered against a rock and popped open, light green paint coating the ground around it. “That _is_ useful. Think of how cool we’d look if we glowed in the dark!”

“We’d be a walking target,” Ryan added, checking dirt underneath his nails. “It’d make us even more visible than Jeremy’s hair does.” Ryan looked over as Jeremy pouted, pulling his cowboy hat down to make sure none of the faded purple was poking out.

Gavin sulked over to the paint-stained earth with Jeremy in tow, the two lads crouching around the puddle that had formed. Gavin dipped a finger into the paint and let out a huff.

“Hey Gav, it’s okay,” Jeremy reassured, reaching out to pat the other Lad on the shoulder, “We have more. Don’t forget we grabbed those awesome googly eyes, too!”

Geoff watched the two for a moment before shaking his head and turning to Michael, who had cleared his throat in an attempt to get the Gent’s attention. “Please tell me you brought back something useful, and not art supplies.”

“Actually.” Michael nodded as he unzipped his backpack, emptying the contents onto the truck bed as well. “I think I did okay.”

Geoff scanned the items, making note that there were not only a pair of first aid kits, but also half a dozen unopened bottles of water, packs of batteries and some deodorant. The last one, Geoff noted, was very much appreciated while constantly combating the Los Santos heat.

“While those chucklefucks were ransacking the craft fair, I grabbed this stuff from the drug store next door. Shopping plazas are great for that.” Michael offered, before letting out a groan and smirking as Geoff ruffled his hair.

“Good job, buddy. I’m glad one of you listened when I said to only grab shit we can use.”

“Uh, Geoff,” Jack shifted his weight in the truck bed, grabbing Geoff’s attention, “Shouldn’t we tell the lads about Ryan’s find? And I don’t mean the targets he found.”

“Oh, right.” Geoff clapped his hands together. “Gav, Jeremy, get over here.”

Jeremy snapped his head over as he was called. He tugged on Gavin’s sleeve, pulling the other man to his feet before they joined the rest of the group.

“Ryan, why don’t you tell the boys what you found on your adventure.” Geoff offered as he returned to his seat on the truck’s open tailgate.

“Oh, yes,” said Ryan. He opened his arms wide to gesture at the truck bed. “I found some candy!”

“Ryan...” Jack sighed.

“Oh!” Ryan laughed, eyes twinkling. “You mean about the garage I found!”

“Wait, dude, you found a garage? Like a place where people work on cars and keep tools and car parts in?” Jeremy grinned up at Ryan.

“No, he found the garage that’s attached to a nice Colonial with a picket fence for our two-point-four kids and our dog.” Jack crossed his arms. “Of _course_ that’s what he means.”

Jeremy stuck his tongue out at Jack before looking back up at Ryan, “How far is it? Did it look good? When can we go?”

“Patience, young Jeremy.” Ryan held out a hand, silencing Jeremy. “It’s a mile or two down the road. It’s in excellent condition, practically untouched by the Chaos. I noticed enough tires to complete our project, plus a gearhead’s paradise worth of parts and supplies ripe for the picking.”

“So what are we waitin’ for?” Jeremy turned to look at Geoff, waiting for the older man’s order. “Christmas?”

Geoff stroked his chin, exhaling softly. “Ryan, you saw it with your own eyes, so you know what we’re in for. How heavy should we prepare?”

Ryan crossed his arms, rolling his head from side to side twice. “Only opposition I ran into were my dearly departed new friends, but I suspect the gunfire may have changed that. Other than whatever gun you’d trust your life to, I’d say a flashlight, some rags to wipe up grease and some empty bags to collect any loose parts you’d like to take back.”

“Any major road concerns we should look out for?” Jack asked, stretching and closing his eyes as his shoulders popped.

“Nothing the ole Contender here can’t handle.” Ryan smiled again, patting the side of the truck bed.

“Wait, didn’t you say you got candy? Holy shit,” Jeremy said. Geoff laughed and tossed him one of the candy bars. Jeremy caught it and ripped into it with ravenous intent. Michael and Gavin retrieved candy for themselves as Jack hopped off the truck bed.

“We should get moving, Geoff,” Jack said, gesturing to the motorcycles in the convenience store. “The afternoon won’t last forever, and we gotta get these bikes their tires.”

“I hear ya, I hear ya,” Geoff said. “Four of us can go raid the garage, and two of us can hold base. Ryan has to come with us, and I want to go since I’ve been sitting around all afternoon.”

“Me too,” Jack said. “I’d like Michael to come with us, too.”

“What!” Gavin squawked. “You’re leaving me and Jeremy to watch the bikes? They don’t move, Jack!”

“Someone’s gotta, buddy,” Geoff said, ruffling Gavin’s hair. “If some ruffians come along and try to take our bikes, someone’s gotta scare them off.”

“But Jeremy doesn’t even like me!” Gavin insisted.

“This is true!” Jeremy said. “You’re gonna leave me with him? Why are you taking Michael?”

“Jeremy, you don’t hate Gavin,” Geoff said, rolling his eyes. “Besides, _Michael_ at least had found useful materials.”

Michael smirked, and Gavin stuck his tongue out at him. Jeremy scowled and crossed his arms, hunching his shoulders as he pouted.

“Now quit arguing,” Jack said. “We’re burning daylight. And don’t gorge yourself on candy while we’re gone. We don’t need tummy aches and sugar rushes from you two.”

“Yes, _Mom_ ,” Gavin said. He tugged on Jeremy’s arm, and the two of them retreated to the convenience store to sulk next to the motorcycles.

“And try not to waste ammo!” Jack called after them.

Geoff chuckled and pulled Jack towards the front of the truck. “Let them be, Mom,” he said. “Let’s just hurry up and get those materials. Ryan, you get shotgun since you’re the navigator.”

“Sweet.”

“Ah but first,” Jack said. “Give me your gun.”

“Aw, Jack!” Ryan whined.

Jack stuck out his hand. “You’ve been way too trigger happy recently. Bullets don't grow on trees.”

With a loud, childish groan, Ryan handed the gun over and climbed into the front seat. He pulled his mask back on and hunkered down to sulk. Jack walked around the front of the truck and got into the driver’s seat as the last two climbed into the back.

“Oh, cheer up, buttercup,” Geoff said, reaching between the seats to pat Ryan on the shoulder. “You can have it back soon. Maybe after we finish the bikes and take them for their first spin!”

Jack glanced over his shoulder to give Geoff a hard look, but Geoff merely grinned and shrugged as he settled back into his seat. Michael gave Jeremy and Gavin one last mocking wave, and then they were off.

The path they took was thankfully not as bad as some parts of the city. Potholes were everywhere, the result of months without repair, but there were no huge ditches, no rubble spilling over from the sidewalk, and no bridges collapsed on top. Jack guided the truck around the potholes, and otherwise had nothing else to avoid.

The sound of the truck was loud in the quiet of the city. Some had kept their cars, like they did, but fuel was hard to come by nowadays. Most people found it easier to just walk, or use a bicycle. That was fine by the Fakes—it was more fuel for them.

They stopped by Ryan’s new (dead) friends and piled their remaining food and water into the back seat. Geoff and Michael dug through it to take inventory as they completed the trip to the garage. It was mostly granola bars and dried fruit and nuts—all good things.

The garage was situated off a highway exit, partially underneath the highway’s bridge. It was lucky that this area escaped much of the damage of the Chaos, for if that overhang had fallen like some of the others they had seen, the garage probably wouldn’t still be here. They parked in front of the open garage door and left the truck unlocked as they crept towards the entrance. Michael took rear, keeping an eye on the road behind them, and Jack and Geoff watched their sides as Ryan took point.

“You left the door open?” Jack asked.

“It’s heavy,” Ryan grumbled. “The mechanism needs electricity the garage doesn’t have anymore and I can’t yank it down on my own!”

“You mean to tell me you’re not Superman?” Geoff asked with a dramatic gasp. Michael snickered.

“Quiet,” Ryan snapped, no longer amused. “In the off chance that someone has decided they like it here, you should stop shouting.”

Luckily, the others obeyed, and Ryan crept on ahead to peek through the garage door. The inside was dark, but his eyes adjusted quickly once he was out of the sun.

The garage was mostly wide open concrete floor, with work benches littered with tools pushed against the walls. To the left of the door was a set of metal stairs leading up to second floor offices that looked down at the main part of the garage. There was also a set of doors in the back, one that led to a customer waiting room and reception, one that led to an employee break room, and a third set away from the other two that led to a storage room.

Ryan scanned the garage, but didn’t see any movement. He waved the others inside and led them towards that third door.

“This place has a pile of wheels and tires in storage,” Ryan said. “Back here.”

They crossed the garage and Ryan yanked open the door.

Much like the garage itself, the storage room seemed more or less untouched by the Chaos, a rare sight in a world where pillaging came as a second nature. The walls were lined with shelves of stacked boxes, each with a picture and some writing to indicate their contents. A few bottles littered the ground, various engine oils and fluids, if the stains on the concrete floor were any hint.

Aside from the pile of wheels and tires that was their target, the floor also had a few stacks of body panels and sheets of metal.

“Alright, goons,” Geoff said. “Have at it—wheels ripe for the picking!”

“Make sure they’re the right size and aren’t bent or damaged,” Jack added as everyone except Geoff began examining the wheels. Geoff leaned against the door like he was their manager, and occasionally would glance back out into the garage to make sure no one snuck up on them. The nice thing about the garage was that the wide open space between the door and this back room left no real hiding places for sneaky bastards.

As they were searching, Geoff heard Michael gasp and leap back from his chosen pile of tires, his hand going for his gun. Everyone else stopped, and appeared frozen—though their fingers twitched and their eyes shifted. Michael frowned at the pile of tires and backed up.

Geoff saw a pair of hands raised defensively before the rest of the woman appeared from behind the stack of tires. Her dark red hair was tied up and clipped back in a messy bun, brown hair showing at her roots. Her outfit—a red dress, black leggings, and a black and white striped jacket—had seen better days. Her dress had dirt stains and her leggings were ripped on one knee.

“Oh hey guys,” she said, smiling and keeping her head meekly low. “I can tell you right now that there’s no food back here.”

“Wait…” Michael said. “I know you…”

Geoff took a step forward, frowning. “Hey, yeah… So do I! It’s Leslie, isn’t it? It’s good to see you survived the Chaos!”

“It’s Lindsay, but thanks,” the woman said, still smiling. “So uhh, I take it you’re not gonna kill me for hiding behind some tires?”

“Have you been alone this whole time?” Michael asked. “You can put your fucking hands down now.”

Lindsay let her hands fall. “Oh yeah, everyone I might have met up with either died or formed their own exclusive cliques. After the first couple weeks I gave up and kept to myself.”

“You were always one of my favorite hires,” Geoff said, rubbing the stubble on his chin and getting a distant look in his eyes. “I did wonder what happened to you during the Chaos.”

“I have an idea,” Jack said slowly. “Remember how we have six bikes, and also the truck?”

Geoff clapped his hands once and pointed at Jack. “I like the way you think! Lindsay! How would you like to come back with us and be our official truck driver!”

“Truck driver?” Lindsay repeated.

“Like, a pickup truck,” Ryan clarified with a sigh. “It’s the car we showed up in.”

“Well shit, dude,” Lindsay said. “Hell yeah. You don’t have to invite me twice to be a part of a group. No takebacks.”

“As long as you don’t fucking die,” Michael said with a laugh.

“Gavin and Jeremy will be happy to see you,” Geoff said. He reached his hand out towards her, and she waved at Michael as she approached him. Her eyes lit up at his words.

“They survived too?”

“Sometimes I wish they hadn’t,” Geoff said with a dramatic sigh, putting his arm around Lindsay’s shoulders. “They’ve probably painted a dick on my bike by now. Come now, the boys can carry the wheels, and you and I can catch up—I mean, guard the truck.”

* * *

 

They returned to the gas station/convenience store with wheels in the truck bed. Geoff half-expected the store to be burned down with Jeremy and Gavin looking guilty, but the two lads were simply waiting, basking in the sun a little. Geoff didn’t like how innocent they looked.

As soon as Lindsay stepped out of the truck, their faces brightened into large smiles, and they ran towards her. Jeremy and Gavin practically fawned over her, surprised and delighted to see her. Geoff was unsurprised. She and Jeremy had been mercenaries on a lot of the same missions, and she and Gavin were such similar characters that once they had gotten over their initial mutual dislike, they became fast friends.

“Alright boys,” Geoff said loudly. “These things aren’t going to unload themselves. Get them to the bikes—chop chop!”

Michael led Lindsay into the store, the two of them carrying the bags of supplies stolen from Ryan’s victims. The other men immediately got to work carrying the wheels, but Jack put a hand on Geoff’s shoulder and put his mouth near his ear.

“He’s in one of those moods,” Jack muttered, nodding at Ryan as he lugged a tire through the open glass doors of the store. Ryan _had_ been rather quiet after they had gotten the tires. Now Geoff could _feel_ the dark, sulky aura emanating from Ryan’s strong, quick strides and icy eyes.

Geoff raised an eyebrow. “Do you think finding Lindsay set him off somehow?”

“That’s my guess,” Jack said. “If she survived the Chaos for this long, why couldn’t… you know.”

“I see.” Geoff’s heart hurt, and he knew Jack felt the same.

The two of them quieted as Ryan returned to the truck for a second wheel. He glared at them as he heaved one up with a grunt.

“Shouldn’t you be helping?” he growled, letting the wheel thump back to the earth.

“Of course I am,” Geoff said, puffing out his chest. “I’m the manager.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and flicked hair out of his face with a shake of the head.

“You're doing great,” Jack called as Ryan rolled the wheel away. Jack chuckled as Ryan let the wheel go for a moment just so he could flip them off, even though he had to jog to retrieve it afterwards. Jack patted Geoff’s shoulder one last time before stepping away. “I suppose I should go start actually repairing them.”

“It _has_ been a long time coming. Guess I should get in there, too.”

Jack gave a small nod before turning and heading into the building. Though it was only dimly lit, Jack did consider the group lucky that they had snagged a generator early on. It had come in handy those late nights of bike repair, when venturing too far from the store was too risky for even Ryan to consider.

“Jack, perfect!” Gavin clapped his hands together as he entered. “We were just about to try fitting the wheels onto one of the bikes. We need your help doing the heavy lifting.”

Jack cracked his knuckles, scowling at Gavin. “Why are we testing them on _my_ bike?”

Gavin’s grin turned sheepish, and he scratched an imaginary itch in his nose. “Yours was the first one I saw when we brought the wheels in?”

Jack shrugged. It wasn’t like his bike wouldn’t be done sooner or later. “At least I can make sure it gets done right. I just hope whoever mounted the tires onto these rims knew what they were doing.”

“I already took a closer look,” Ryan added in curtly. “They look fine.”

Gavin glanced between Ryan and Jack before grabbing at Jack’s arm to drag the larger man over to the bike. “You lift, I’ll roll, okay?”

Jack nodded before taking a deep breath. He gripped the base of the motorcycle’s chassis and lifted it with a grunt. He waited until Gavin had rolled the wheel into place in the axle and bolted it into place before letting the bike drop gently to rest on the newly fitted rubber.

“Looks good, boys.” Geoff grinned as he poked his head into the store where the bikes had been set up. Michael appeared next to Geoff from somewhere, leaning against the wall.

“Oh shit, that looks sweet.” Michael’s eyes flashed greedily. “Let’s do mine next!”

Burning the rest of the daylight they had left, the group set to work fixing the remaining bikes. A few cuts, bruises and pinched fingers later, the project was complete.

“So…” Ryan cleared his throat, cutting through the silence that had filled the room. “Who wants to start theirs up first?”

This was, of course, the moment they had been waiting for since day one of the project, but nerves had finally caught up to them, and the certainty that the bikes would start was now concern that their efforts had been in vain.

“Fuck it, I’m in charge, I might as well take the plunge first.” Geoff let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He climbed onto his bike for what he believed was the first time, and said a small prayer to whoever would listen before gripping the key tightly and giving it a turn.

The bike roared to life, letting out a visceral snarl that drowned out the men’s cheers. A few revs just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke, and Geoff was grinning to the point he thought his cheeks would tear.

“Looks like we’re in business,” said Geoff. “The Christpunchers ride at dawn!”


	2. Get Your Motor Runnin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while since Chapter 1. Feedback culture is dead and it's been disheartening despite both our best efforts.

“We should race them,” Gavin said.

Jack scoffed from where he was cleaning off imaginary dirt on his bike’s gas tank with a rag. The horizon was smudged with the pastels of dawn, and pale light was beginning to fill the gas station interior. Gavin pointed out the station’s glass doors at the street beyond, a broad grin plastered on his face. The other five reclined against the back wall—Geoff was still asleep, in fact, snoring lightly in his sleeping bag.

“Are you serious?” Jack said. “We _just_ fucking fixed them, and you want to _race_ them?”

“We have _motorcycles_ , Jack!” Gavin exclaimed. “What else do we do with them?”

“Ride them,” Jack said dryly. “Safely, without wasting gasoline.”

“Don’t be boring,” Gavin complained. He looked past Jack towards the back of the store and called, “Michael—don’t you want to race them?”

“Fuck yeah,” Michael replied. “You wanna go? Let’s fucking go.”

Jack sighed as Gavin wore his best shit-eating grin. He heard Geoff snort awake in the back at the sound of Michael’s voice.

“Huh? What are we yelling about?” Geoff grumbled, sitting up.

“Michael and Gavin want to race,” said Ryan. He had already put his mask back on, so his expression was hidden by the black skull’s toothy smile. Jeremy nodded in confirmation.

“Race?” Geoff repeated, rubbing his eyes. “Like, with the bikes?”

“Yes,” Jack said, glaring at Gavin. “With the bikes.”

“Fuck, man,” said Geoff. “That sounds like a good time.”

Jack put his face in his hands.

“If one of you dies,” said Lindsay, “does that mean I get a bike?”

Michael snickered. “You can have Gavin’s,” he said. “You _know_ he’s gonna be the one to fucking die.”

“You’re all morons,” Jack said.

“Aw, come on, Jack,” said Geoff. “Have a little fun. We’ll have our little road trip afterwards.

Jack sighed again. “ _Fine_ ,” he said. “If _that’s_ what you want to use our gas for. Let’s race.”

Gavin cheered. Not even an hour later, five of their bikes were wheeled onto the street and lined up. They knew from earlier that this street stretched on mostly rubble-free for a few blocks—a perfect location for an impromptu drag race. Gavin was the first to hop onto his purple bike, and the other four soon followed suit. Jack took Lindsay on his bike and rode down to the finish line to wait and judge.

Even some blocks away, Jack could hear the engines revving. The echoes bounced off the hills on one side, and bounced off the half-crumbled houses on the other. He winced as he parked his bike on the sidewalk. He let Lindsay get off before he nudged the kickstand into place and stood up.

“I hope they enjoy themselves,” Jack grumbled, listening to the echoes of the engines. “The racket they’re making…”

“I think they are,” Lindsay said, rocking on her heels as she stared down the street with a small smile. “I mean, _I’ve_ spent the last few months hiding in every hole I could find since the Chaos. It’s nice to have fun again.”

Jack stopped glowering, glancing at Lindsay before also looking down the street. The bikes were small dots in the distance. He supposed she was right. Someone had to be serious, sure, but what was the harm in a little fun? They could all use a real laugh.

A few moments later, the sound of the engines changed, and the little dots began to move. Wobbly at first, until they picked up speed and stabilized. The snarls of the bikes ripped through the empty air, making Jack’s ears prick. The dots steadily grew, until Jack could make out the different bike colors—purple for Gavin; pink for Geoff; black for Ryan; chrome for Michael; and a hideous purple and orange for Jeremy.

Jack suddenly had the vision of them crashing. He imagined one of the bikes losing control and crashing, and he winced. Their next step would be getting helmets. He would not allow something like this again without helmets.

He almost forgot to look when they got close, but Lindsay nudged his arm, and together they watched the bikes roar over the finish line. The racers were pretty close, but after some light discussion, he and Lindsay could agree on a winner. The others turned their bikes around and guided them towards Jack, spreading out in a loose circle and hopping off with wide grins. Even Ryan’s eyes, visible through his mask, were brighter than usual.

“That was awesome!” Michael said, his hair sticking up every which way. Gavin was trying to flatten his own hair. “Jack, these bikes have some real pickup. You’ve _got_ to try just fucking _accelerating_ …”

“So who won?” Geoff asked, cutting Michael off. “Was it me?”

Jack laughed. “It was close,” he said. “But me and Lindsay agreed that…”

A piece of concrete by Jack’s feet exploded, followed immediately by a crack in the air like condensed thunder. Jack yelped, hearing the others cry out as well, and they scattered. He ducked behind his bike with Lindsay, hand already going to the pistol at his waist. From the spray of the concrete, the bullet had come from the direction of the hills bordering the street.

Jack tried to steady his breathing. Criminal or enforcer, no one would want to waste bullets on cover fire. The Christpunchers _could_ take cover in the buildings, but running for them would expose their backs. Jack didn’t want to assume the enemy’s accuracy based on one missed shot…

“Poke your heads out so we can shoot you, you criminals!” someone hollered. Yep—definitely in the hills.

“Don’t you know who we are!?” Geoff roared back from behind his bike. He was patting his pockets, eventually finding the pistol under his jacket.

“Fakes!” the stranger cried. “ _You’re_ the reason the Chaos started and the city went to shit!”

Jack winced. It was an enforcer. Criminals might fight amongst themselves, but only enforcers had a sense of entitlement and superiority for trying to uphold laws that don’t exist in Los Santos anymore. But as stupid as enforcers might be, they wouldn’t pick a fight like this without friends. There were likely several people, lying in the hills with guns at the ready.

“Now that’s not fair!” Geoff shouted. “You can’t blame us for something _you_ started!”

“Jack,” Ryan said. His motorcycle was a few paces away from where Jack and Lindsay hid, and he crouched with a hand partially extended. “Jack, give me a gun.”

Jack’s mouth twisted. He had a couple extras, but... “No.”

He saw Ryan’s eyes narrow behind his mask. “Okay, I was only annoyed earlier, but now we’re in a firefight, _Jack_.”

Jack peeked his head over his bike, quickly scanning the grassy hills. His bike pinged with a bullet, and he quickly ducked back down and looked back over at Ryan. “There seems to be four men up there,” Jack said. “I know you are capable of dealing with this without using up our ammo stock. Prove to me you can, and I’ll give you your gun back afterwards.”

Jack wished he could see all of Ryan’s face. The little he saw was enough to send him into a fit of laughter.

Lindsay lightly smacked his shoulder. “Hey, yo, I know it’s funny, but are you sure this is the best idea?”

Jack quieted his laughter, wiping an errant tear away as he looked at Lindsay. “Yeah,” he managed between wheezes. “Lindsay, he’s _fine_. He's taken down stronger enemies in worse situations before. Isn’t that right Ryan?”

They turned to look, but the Vagabond had vanished from behind his bike. Jack blinked, then smirked as one of the guys on the hill screamed.

“Woah,” Lindsay whispered. “I forgot how good he was at that.”

“Cover him!” Jack ordered, popping up and steadying his arms across the motorcycle’s seat to aim his pistol at the hills. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Geoff and Michael also pop up, but Gavin and Jeremy remained hidden.

Ryan had taken one of the enforcers hostage and was using him as a body shield. He used this body shield to stalk closer to the other three. The other three men yelled at him, pointing their guns at the Vagabond and demanding they let their friend go.

Geoff took careful aim with his pistol, lined up the shot, and squeezed the trigger. One of the three standing enforcers cried out and collapsed to the ground, clutching at his side. Another bullet hit the concrete next to his bike, and Geoff ducked back down.

That was enough distraction for Ryan to get close to the enforcers. He shoved his captive into the arms of the closest one, then in one fluid movement swung around and elbowed his ex-captive in the back of the head hard enough that the poor man smashed his forehead into his friend’s face. Those two toppled to the ground, stunned.

Jack just happily watched the next few seconds, Lindsay cautiously peeking over his motorcycle to watch as well. The Vagabond in a fight was a work of art, as he dodged a shot and flung out his throwing knives, hidden all over his person. Ryan downed the fourth guy with a knife in the neck, finished off the guy Geoff had shot, then turned towards the last two where they groaned on the ground. The Vagabond marched over and kicked a gun away from their reach. Those two scurried to their feet, and Ryan watched passively as they bounded away like antelope fleeing a satiated lion.

“Amazing,” Lindsay breathed. “I’m glad he likes _us._ But I’m surprised he let two of them get away.”

Jack chuckled and shrugged. “I’m assuming it’s to let them spread fear. It’s so much harder to get witnesses nowadays. Knowing him, he wants to make sure he—and we—are still feared.”

Lindsay nodded, eyes wide as Ryan picked up all the dropped guns and jogged down the hill back to the street.

“I’m keeping this,” Ryan said simply, lifting up a carbine as he handed the extra pistol and uzi to Jack.

Jack smiled and shook his head. “Of course,” he said. “You’ve earned it.”

“Well?” Geoff demanded, marching over from his shelter.

Jack frowned. “Well what?”

Geoff swung his arms out to the side, gesturing to everyone as they popped out of hiding and regrouped. “Who won the race?”

* * *

 

Lindsay strolled next to Michael as he walked his bike back down the street. Jack had ordered everyone to walk back to the station rather than ride, in an effort to save fuel and also not draw more attention. Lindsay was honestly just kind of glad she didn’t have to push any vehicles.

She glanced around, seeing others do the same. Watching for movement. Anyone could see them and decide to attack, not just enforcers. But, right now, she mostly enjoyed the morning sun on her face and the company of friends. She’d been looking after herself for months; she’s earned some downtime.

“Ahh,” she sighed. “I really missed you guys.”

Michael glanced at her before returning his attention to steering his bike. “What _were_ you doing all this time? What happened to you during the Chaos?”

Lindsay kicked a stone that was in her way. It bounced ahead to land in the path of Michael’s bike, and he steered around it.

“Not much that didn’t happen to all y’all. Well, maybe, I don’t know. The Chaos didn’t hit us smaller mercenaries as quick. We knew that shit was going down, that tensions were rising and that the pigs were starting to trigger fights. But we were small fry. We weren’t targets.”

She was aware that the others were focused more on her now. They were still quiet, but their quietness felt more pointed in her direction. It wasn’t exactly eavesdropping, what with her and Michael walking along in the middle of the group, but she was sharply aware of their attentiveness.

“So what made you hide out alone at the garage?” Michael prompted. Whoops—she hadn’t meant to pause for so long, thinking. She smiled at him and shrugged. Michael quickly glanced at his bike’s handlebars, as though returning his focus to steering.

“Very soon, everyone had an opinion. Us smaller fry were starting to realize that, though smaller targets, we were still targets. And vigilantes started cropping up, trying to raid our homes and interrupt our jobs. Shit like that. I and a few others tried to contact you guys—see if we could help the Fakes in return for more reliable protection. But man, when we realized it was bad enough to call you for help, shit was already in full swing. You guys were in hiding, the docks and airport were locking down. I tried to stick with friends, but for one reason or another, we… split up. I still have no idea what happened to some of my other fellow mercenaries you liked to hire. I never saw Jeremy, until you found me, or Matt, or Steffie, or…” She trailed off, feeling suddenly cold. She really had no idea where they were. Or even if they were still alive.

She felt a hand squeeze her shoulder. She jumped, and Michael’s hand darted back to the handlebar.

“I did manage to stay with Meg and Mica for a while,” she said. “But they both managed to sneak off the docks before there were no more boats.”

“Why didn’t you sneak with them?” Michael asked softly, as though afraid of the answer—as though afraid of making Lindsay hurt at the memory.

“I almost got caught,” Lindsay admitted. “I escaped, obviously, but it was better that the vigilantes, the ‘good guys enforcers,’ thought I was traveling alone so that Meg and Mica could leave and get to safety. Everyone else I might have run to had already found their cliques, and had no room for me. Some outright didn’t trust me—which, fair, but meant I eventually ended up at the garage.”

“Lindsay…” Geoff coughed awkwardly, clearing his throat. When she glanced back at him, he was blushing, as though embarrassed to admit he had been listening in. But now it was too late to backtrack. “Lindsay, the last boat left two months ago. You haven’t found _anyone?_ ”

She shrugged. “As I said, everyone else already had their cliques. But hey, I found you guys!”

“More like we found you,” Michael muttered.

“It worked out!” Lindsay said cheerfully.

“Lindsay, I—we…” Geoff stuttered. He lunged suddenly as his bike veered off to the side, nearly tipping over before he caught it and straightened.

“It worked out,” Lindsay stressed. She waved her hand dismissively and grinned. “We found each other again.”

Geoff fell quiet again. Michael studied the road in front of his bike for a moment or two, pushing his bike towards the nearing gas station/convenience store.

“And so we did,” he finally said, under his breath. After a beat, he added, louder, “I’m glad you’re here now.”

* * *

 

The Christpunchers lined up their bikes outside the convenience store, then went inside to grab a quick bite to eat. They would be leaving soon, but hadn’t actually gotten breakfast before their race. Jack stayed outside for a few minutes longer to inspect the new wheels.

“Don’t fuck around for too long!” Geoff said, digging a breakfast bar out of a bag. “I want to be leaving in the next couple hours, before some other brave soul decides they can mess with us.”

“Sure, Geoffrey,” Gavin said slyly, flopping down against the edge of an overturned shelf, a cereal bar already in his hands. “Did you want to keep watch, too? Keep an eye out on those _dangerous_ streets.”

He gestured to the window with his still-wrapped cereal bar. Geoff didn’t have to turn around; he knew the decrepit street outside well enough by now. It’s a terrible angle for snipers, and few hiding spots meant it was incredibly difficult for someone to sneak up to unless _no one_ was paying _any_ attention. Geoff rolled his eyes.

“I just think it’s time we move,” Geoff said. “We’ve been in one spot for too long. And who knows when and where the next supply drop will land! If it’s near us, I want us ready to move out before the whole fucking city tramples us.”

“Alright, alright,” Jeremy said, going over to sit next to Gavin. “We get it—doom and gloom. At least it’s turning out to be a nice day.”

“Define ‘nice day,’” said Ryan from where he stood against the wall next to a window, peeling back the wrapper of his own food bar. Geoff thought he spied chocolate, but Ryan smoothly shifted his hand and took a huge bite so that Geoff couldn't get a good look at it. Geoff raised an eyebrow. That was the action of a man guilty of eating chocolate for breakfast.

“Well I mean,” said Jeremy, “it’s not cloudy, it’s gonna be warm…”

“So like typical Los Santos,” Michael said. Jeremy sputtered an incomprehensible defense, which set Michael off laughing. Gavin snickered, and since Gavin was the closer lad, Jeremy shoved him.

“Look on the bright side,” Lindsay said. “At least we’re not in a zombie apocalypse.”

“Oh for sure,” Jeremy said, scowling. “We would have already fed Gavin to the z-bags.”

“ _Jeremy!_ ” Gavin wheezed, putting a hand over his heart as though offended.

“You’re acting like the idiot wouldn’t be the first victim,” Geoff taunted.

“I’m glad we’re not,” Ryan said, his eyes glittering, “because then we'd have to listen to Geoff scream every time something moves.”

“ _Hey!_ ”

Geoff felt a hand on his shoulder and he shrieked and jumped away. Jack had come in from outside, and now the big man snorted, at a loss for words. Michael laughed harder, hunching over where he stood while Lindsay wore a smug smirk next to him.

“What are you guys _doing_ in here?” Jack said, watching Geoff stand straight again and try to adjust his jacket with dignity.

“Just hanging out,” Lindsay said. “Shooting the shit. You know.”

“Right.” Jack let out a huff, controlling his laughter for now. “Ahh… Well, it seems the wheels held up well during the race. I think we made a really good find—Ryan are you eating a candy bar.”

“No,” said Ryan, shoving the rest of the definitely-chocolate bar into his mouth.

“ _Ryan_ ,” Jack scolded, but they could hear the giggle in his voice.

“You can’ proof nuffin’,” Ryan said with his mouth full.

“Listen, Ryan can do what he wants,” Lindsay said lightly. “Society has broken down. There are no more laws. A man can eat chocolate for breakfast now.”

“Oh god!” Michael cackled, still clutching his stomach. “We really are in the apocalypse! Ryan’s eating chocolate in the morning!”

That set everyone off laughing. Geoff howled, leaving against Jack as he let himself just _laugh_. Which was something he hadn’t much felt like doing for a few months. Finding Lindsay really had lightened everyone's moods, even his own.

Wiping the tears from his eyes and catching his breath, he said, “Oh Lindsay, I really am so fucking glad we found you.”

 


End file.
